


Under His Wing

by NaughtyBees



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Concussions, Fights, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nose Biting, Racism, Slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyBees/pseuds/NaughtyBees
Summary: Jamison Fawkes is new to prison, and it shows. After he's protected by the baddest guy in there, he struggles to accept that he's now technically his bitch...AU by Frankenpup on tumblr!





	1. Concussion

**Author's Note:**

> Brief attempted rape scene in the first chapter but it's an isolated occasion. If this would in any way have a detrimental effect on you, please find another fic to read, thank you.

He'd heard all the talk about prison, how you needed to make sure you never seemed weak. Beat up the biggest guy there and even if you don't win, people will know not to mess with you. His plan was to use his prosthetic arm to try at least give some huge bugger a big bruise. But with his arm confiscated, he was barely balanced enough to throw a half decent punch. 

“Fawkes?” Someone rumbled from behind him, reading from his shirt. He grit his teeth, standing straight. Why did his first contact with another inmate have to be when he was alone? He shouldn't have gone into the showers on his first day. Turning, he looked up at the man behind him. Muscles upon muscles, a mean look behind a red beard. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Jamie hissed. Be tough, don't let him intimidate you. But it was hard to be tough when you had two limbs and looked like a stiff breeze would knock you over. 

A strong hand grabbed his wrist, squeezing tightly as he was shoved backward. Pain blossomed through his skull as he hit the tile wall, breath caught in his chest as he tried to swing with his stump, writhing in the larger man’s grip. “Mm. Like ‘em to have a little fight.” He growled, a smile behind his beard as his rough hand shoved itself down Jamison’s pants. 

“No! Get the fuck off me!” Jamie screamed, cut off by a hand over his mouth. Oh, god, please no… This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. He couldn't kick hard enough, couldn't wriggle free as his pants were pulled to his ankles. 

A shadow encompassed both of them and Jamie looked up through bleary, tear filled eyes, mildly aware of how the man paused in his assault and let go. Jamie collapsed to the floor, a hand reaching back to touch his head, looking at the red sheen on it with mild interest. It took him a second to realise his balls were touching the cold tile floor and he pulled up his pants quickly, thinking he probably had a mild concussion with how slow his perception was.   
Were those voices there before? He looked up, seeing the man facing someone who looked like a fucking heavily tattooed skyscraper. His head brushed the ceiling, his face contorted with anger. Jamie had to concentrate to focus on the words. 

“-know what happens to rapists around here, don't you?” 

“Come on, I wasn't really gonna! I was joking!” 

The larger man pulled back a fist the size of a basketball, looking like he crushed the man’s nose as it sent him flying backwards, colliding with an open locker, falling to the ground. Jamie sat and watched without sympathy as those huge fists connected with the man with wet packing noises, blood spattering over the dirty tiles. 

Jamie had to blink a few times to notice the large hand outstretched toward him, knuckles wet and dripping blood on his orange pants. Weird, the guy wasn't wearing a shirt. Jamie only hoped it wasn't a lion taking a hyena’s kill situation. It took him a moment but he took the man’s hand - or rather finger - being hoisted up like he was made of paper. 

“You okay?” The man moved his lips clumsily over words so deep they vibrated Jamie’s chest cavity. God, he was so scarred… He almost didn't want to know what he was in for. “Nasty head wound there.”

It took Jamie a few times to keep his balance but he soon felt a large hand at his back. He hated that the man thought he couldn't cope by himself, but he didn't say anything lest he actually need his help. “...Won't you get in trouble?” He asked, looking toward the broken body of the almost-rapist. 

Those thick lips twitched with a ghost of a smile. “What will they do? Make my life sentence even longer?” He picked up Jamie’s discarded shirt (that he hadn't noticed he wasn't wearing…how concussed was he?) and balled it, guiding him slowly to the water fountain so he could wet it, pressing it to the back of his head. “Got a name?” 

“Course I do, stupid. Who doesn't have a name?” Jamie spat, not quite grasping that this guy was big enough to squash him like a bug. He did save him though, as much as he hated that he had to be saved. “Jamison. Fawkes.”

“Cool name.” The man rumbled, dabbing the blood away gently. “Name's Rutledge. Most people call me Roadhog.” When Jamie gave him a look, he licked his lips a little to hide his smirk. “Ride handle.”

Jamie would've nodded but he didn't want to vomit. “Never had time for bikes… Preferred other people’s cars.” He laughed to himself. “And then setting fire to them.”

Rutledge, or Roadhog, he hadn't decided yet, just nodded. Once it seemed the bleeding had stopped, he led him from the showers, not touching him but making sure he could catch him if he fell. Jamison noticed how a few of the people they passed smiled brightly at Rutledge, but most stopped their confident swaggers and averted their eyes, not wanting to incur the wrath of the Roadhog. Jamie didn't enjoy being herded by him toward his cell, but he was glad when he could sit on his bunk and pull on a fresh shirt, closing his eyes. 

“I'm so tired…” He mumbled softly. 

“No.” Rutledge growled, grabbing his face in his large hand. Jamie stiffened with fright, staring at him with unease. He angled his head up and he winced at the sunlight slicing a beam through his tiny window. “Okay, your pupils aren't dilated. You can walk and talk. So you should be okay sleeping.” He let go and Jamie shoved at his hand, barely moving him. 

“Won't the wardens just wake me?” Jamie asked, frowning. 

Shaking his head, Rutledge stood tall. “Don't worry about that.” He walked toward the door, folding his arms and leaning against the outside wall of the cell. After a moment, one of the wardens looked inside at Jamie laid down, then at Rutledge covered in blood. She gave the larger man a nod which he returned and then continued on her way.   
Jamie figured they appreciated his rape prevention and didn't want to get in the way of it. He exhaled as he laid down, closing his eyes and letting himself relax, wishing he could have a shower to wash the feeling of those hands from his body. He tried to focus on something else…the feeling of a palm larger than his chest supporting him…although he didn't want to dwell on that for too long it was a thought comforting enough to let him drift off into a surprisingly restful sleep.


	2. Meatballs

Jamie nearly leapt out of his seat as a cafeteria tray thunked down next to his own, head snapping up to see a familiar hulking figure attempt to fit onto the table, the fixed seat giving him a little trouble. When he finally squeezed himself onto the seat, taking up half of it, he nodded to Jamie in greeting. 

“What do you want?” Jamie asked in an accusatory tone. 

Rutledge looked at him, one eyebrow quirked upward. 

“I know prison laws.” He sighed with distaste. “What will it be? Sexual favours? You want me to get contraband up my arse? What is it?” 

“...I was gonna ask if you wanted my meatballs.” Rutledge gestured to his plate. “Maybe trade for your broccoli?” 

Jamie frowned and was about to reply with something he'd regret when six more men joined his table. The only thing that they had in common was they were all small by prison standards. Small and rather meek. They talked quietly amongst themselves, a few of them picking parts of their meals off and placing them on the largest man’s plate. Soon he had lots of steamed veg and three extra pudding cups.   
“...I'm not your fucking bitch.” Jamie finally said, pointing a finger at him with a grimace. “You don't control me just because you're some kind of saviour!” 

Rutledge paused with a mouthful of cabbage, not seeming fazed by the finger in his face. “I only asked if you wanted my meatballs.” He turned his plate, nudging three, brown lumps of gristle toward him. “You look like a walking skeleton.”

Jamie looked from the meatballs to the six other men, seeing them look at him expectantly. With a heavy sigh, he stabbed the meatballs with his fork, returning them to his own plate and giving him two pieces of broccoli in return. He was quiet for the rest of lunch, pulling faces at the awful mystery meats and watching Rutledge silently survey the cafeteria as he ate, looking more like a warden than an inmate. It made Jamie wonder what his whole deal was.


	3. Gangs

Most work was awful for Jamie. He couldn't sew to save his life and he always managed to nail his clothes to furniture. However, when it came to electrical engineering, he could knock out a lamp in half the time it took everyone else, even with one arm. 

“Hey, man, you're really good at that.” The guy to Jamie’s left said with a smile. He was a short, dark skinned man who looked around his age. “Where’d you learn how to do that?” 

Jamie shrugged. “Junkyards were my happy place as a kid. Taking shit apart and putting it back together became second nature.” He finished another toaster and started on a fourth. “I'm Jamison.”

“Lucio.” The other man greeted, smiling. “So...saw you sitting with Roadhog at lunch.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “He sat with me. I don't want anything to do with that wanker.”

Seeming a little annoyed at that, Lucio sat up straighter. “He's a good guy. You want to be on his good side.”

A sigh escaped Jamie. “Why would I do that? He's a prick.”

Lucio looked at Jamie with a frown. “Look, in here there are three gangs. You're either with Gristle who encourages violence no matter what kind, or with Bosco who will make sure his guys steal from you, or Walt who is just a massive racist.” He inhaled deeply. “And then there's Roadhog. He doesn't think he leads a gang but…there's thirty of us, we're basically his bitches.”

Looking him up and down, Jamie raised an eyebrow. “...’Us’?”

“Yeah…Walt’s guys were giving me a hard time. Now most of them don't have teeth. Haven't been bothered since.” Lucio pushed aside a kettle he'd finished wiring up. “Just you watch. Now Roadhog has marked you as his bitch, you won't get any hassle from anyone.”

“Oh, yeah? And what do I give him? Head every other day?” Jamie snapped. 

Lucio laughed softly. “No! He's not like that. He just might ask for your food is all. Poor guy is a bit big for prison rations.”

Jamie was quiet for a moment. So this fella basically took all the underdogs under his wing? And only asked for extra portions? That actually seemed… Perfectly reasonable. But the idea of being some weakling who needed the missing link between humans and King Kong protecting him did not sit well at all. He needed longer to think this through.


	4. Basketball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains racial slurs, please don't read if that would affect you, thank you.

Lucio was amazing at basketball. Jamie was at a slight disadvantage considering he wasn't allowed his arm, but their team were basically being carried by Lucio. Jamie missed the ball again, but it was immediately caught and thrown toward the hoop, another amazing shot that ensured their victory.  
Jamie was glad that they were playing against Rutledge’s bitches. They were all too short to block the hoop. Speaking of, his eyes moved to where the imposing figure was spinning a basketball on one finger, watching their game with a bored expression. He reminded Jamie of a shepherd, making sure his flock were safe.

The basketball was thrown and Jamie yelled in pain as it bounced off the back of his head, his wound beginning to ache and throb. He growled and held his head, rubbing it. Lucio stood beside him and touched his arm. “I'm fine.” He mumbled. 

“No, not that.” Lucio gestured to Rutledge, a man walking up to him. “That's Walt.”

Jamie felt very uneasy as Rutledge looked down at the gang leader. His voice was full of venom as he yelled at him. “It's our turn on the court! Get your mongrel friends away from our stuff!” He spat. “We'll have to wash it first though.”  
Rutledge just stood there, ball still spinning on his finger, looking down at Walt with a blank expression. “What, don't you speak English?! I said ‘GET OFF OUR COURT!’” 

Jamie looked over to Lucio. “Should we do something? I mean…if that guy is the alternative, I'd rather stick with Roadie.” 

Lucio shook his head. “No, he holds his own. He wouldn't want us doing anything.”

Walt got even more into his face, almost touching his belly, punching the basketball from where it spun. “Are you deaf, you stupid hori?! MOVE! It's disgusting, letting whites associate with ni-”

He didn't finish. Large hands grabbed his shoulders and he screamed as he was swung around, Rutledge’s eyes wild with rage. He wasn't about to let this guy be racist toward his bitches. He needed to be made an example of.  
Jamison felt like he was going to be sick. Rutledge pinned the guy to the wall and leant forward, latching onto the guy’s face with his teeth. He screamed and struggled as he bit down and Jamie looked away, hearing a wet crunch and a gurgle. When he looked back, Rutledge had dropped him, his front covered in blood. He turned his head and spat, Jamie recoiling in horror as a nose landed on the tarmac with a splat. 

Lucio breathed and shuddered. “Holy fuck…that was so metal.”

Jamie looked at Lucio with his mouth agape, watching Rutledge pick up his basketball, spinning it again, not even looking as Walt was taken away by wardens. One of them spoke to Rutledge and he nodded, bouncing the basketball to Lucio who caught it, then following them away to be reprimanded. 

“Fuckin’ hell, okay…” Jamie exhaled shakily. “Uh…will we be alright with him gone?”

With a nod, Lucio shot another hoop. “After that display? Wouldn't surprise me if people started paying us to not sic Roadhog on them. But who nose?” He grinned. “I'm gonna go wash my hands.” He mumbled as he noticed the blood on them from the ball. As he headed inside, he looked back. “Smell ya later!”

With a groan, Jamie sat on a bench, tapping his peg and wondering when Rutledge would come back. It shouldn't have been a big deal to him, but it absolutely was, for reasons he couldn't fathom.


End file.
